


Tea and Empathy

by LadyAmina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Conversations, Friendship, Headcanon, Healing, Late Night Conversations, Lie Low At Lupin's, Post-Goblet of Fire, Pre-Order of the Phoenix, Reunions, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmina/pseuds/LadyAmina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lie low at Lupin's for awhile," Dumbledore had said, "I will contact you there".<br/>This story takes place later in the night of Voldemort's return.  Dumbledore ordered Sirius to stay at Lupin's house.  But there is a lot that he and Remus still need to get out into the open before their friendship can begin healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Empathy

**Author's Note:**

> Strangely enough, this is not actually R/S, which is really strange for me, but let's try it out, yeah?

The air was thick with humidity, and if it couldn’t be called hot, balmy would fit just fine. London always smelled just a bit damp and stale, and this evening, the stuffy, overcrowded borough of Tower Hamlets was no exception. Well, it had been evening at some point. That was hours ago. It must be early morning at this point, but time management had never been a strong point of the hulking black dog that stalked back and forth across a postage-stamp sized lawn in front of an unexceptional townhouse.

Sirius had arrived at the home of Remus Lupin a little over an hour ago, and had been working himself up to knocking on the door ever since.

What did you say in this kind of situation? What did you say to someone you once thought of as family, then believed to be an unforgivable traitor, then regretted the loss of for twelve years, then re-accepted as a friend, then not spoken to for a whole succeeding year? In fourteen years of Black Family etiquette training, they had never once covered a circumstance of this particular nature.

All of the lights were off, at least in the front of Remus’s house, as well as in all of his neighbors’ houses. But Sirius fancied himself a master of stealth. Being the only successful fugitive of Azkaban in all of wizarding history will do that for an ego. He was not concerned that he would attract any attention, he simply could not bring himself to knock on the bloody door.

Remus had owled Sirius exactly once. It had been the month following his escape to the caves he now called home. One month after that star-crossed night, the sixth of June, as he recalled. Sirius had worn the parchment thin, worrying it between his fingers on countless nights in the beginning. But he had never responded. And on one fitful night of angst, it had become kindling. But he no longer needed it, exactly. Every word was burned into his memory. The careful curvature of Remus’s script branded in his mind forever.

                        Padfoot -

I do not expect a response to this post. In fact, I do not fully expect you to receive it. If I stop to think about why I am writing at all, I know I’ll stop, and for whatever reason, I am disinclined to do so.

I know you are in hiding. Dumbledore told me as much. Thus, I know that I should avoid contacting you. It seems I am less prodigious at following rules than you ever thought. I am sick of knowing you are out there and not knowing where, or how you are faring. It seems absurd after twelve years’ disconnect, but its uncomfortable all over again to know nothing of your wellbeing, now that I know you are…

Maybe I’ll find a word that fits there later.

I have so many questions. There are so many things that don’t make sense; and some that make too much sense and I need clarification. I’ve spent twelve years regretting you. Hating you for what I thought you’d done. It is not that I never questioned your guilt, but that I could not see past the remorse long          enough to convince myself of your innocence. It was so much easier to resent you than face any alternative. That is a lot, isn’t it?

I just want to know that you are… okay. ‘Well’ might be a stretch, but I want to know that you are alive - part of the world. But of course, I have already discouraged you from responding, which I will do again now. Please, be mindful of yourself. Do not jeopardize your position by indulging me.

Above all: Stay safe, Padfoot.

 

Sincerely,

M—

P.S. I think I figured out why I wanted to write this in the first place. I haven’t addressed a letter                                                     to ‘Padfoot’ in over a decade.

What the hell was Sirius supposed to come back at that with? The letter had been so Remus - so reminiscent of letters he’d received from him before.  Heartfelt to the last stroke of the quill, and yet devoid of any real emotion. Clinical. Meanwhile, Sirius had been making up for years of lacking emotion by feeling everything all at once. Ergo, the eventual burning of Remus’s letter.

“Lie low at Lupin’s for awhile,” Dumbledore had said, “I will contact you there.”

Maybe Dumbledore could still contact him if he were merely outside of Lupin’s.

Oh! This was getting ridiculous!

Propelled by agitation alone, Sirius transformed and stomped his way up the porch steps to bang on Remus’s door, too loudly for whatever time of morning it was. Needless to say, there was no answer. He knocked again quickly before he lost his nerve.

He rapped on the door one last time, all of the passion gone from his knuckles, before he decided to turn around and wait for Dumbledore’s word in the front garden like the slimy coward he was. He had accepted this just as the front door opened, leaving only the storm door between Sirius and a very bleary eyed Remus John Lupin.

“What is the -” Whatever question his friend had been about to ask had died on his lips when his eyes met Sirius’s. Instead, his sentence ended with a rather lame, “Oh.”

“Hey, Remus,” Sirius tried to affect casuality into his tone, but failed miserably. His voice was heavy with… well with a thousand things.

“Sirius,” Remus managed. That seemed to be about it, as he just stood there.

“Er - there’s a lot to explain. It’s been a - well, a hell of a night. Could I…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he never would have needed to. Remus pushed the storm door open and waited for Sirius to step through without any further prompting whatsoever.

Sirius obliged, slipping past Remus. For the first time in memorable history he felt under-dressed, even though Remus himself was only wearing a night-shirt and baggy sweat-pants, with a bathrobe thrown over them. A light was on in the sitting room and once he and Remus were both tucked into the house, London’s balmy air safely on the other side of the door, he found himself staring at his oldest remaining friend. Remus Lupin looked… Old. His face appeared even more lined than it actually was due to his attainment of new scars. The three deepest ones were still there, marring his eyes and nose just as Sirius remembered, but there were several new, shallow ones near his mouth and hairline. He also looked tired in a way that even waking up at ungodly hours of the morning wouldn’t render a person. He looked tired in his bones. Sirius knew exactly what that meant. He did a quick head calculation and decided that there were six days left until the next full moon. Then he marveled that he still had that innate ability. Some old habits died hard.

Remus beckoned him to sit on a nearby armchair, settling into the moth-eaten couch adjacent to it himself. He still hadn’t said a word since he’d uttered Sirius’s name.

Sirius took in the empty, primer-white walls and complete lack of personality in the sitting room. “Do you even live here?”

“I’ve only been a year or so. And your cell was lined with The Clash posters, I suppose?” The comparison was not lost on Sirius and made him flinch internally. Despite this, he couldn’t help the slow, broad grin that spread onto his cheeks. It was such a Moony thing to say that all he could do was smile.

The corners of Remus’s mouth twitched.

“So, you’ve had a trying evening, have you?” Remus asked, finally appearing to wake up.

“I…” Where the hell to begin? “…Harry-”

“What’s happened to Harry?” Remus’s eyes were suddenly wide, and Sirius realized that of course Remus would have been following the Triwizard Tournament story through The Profit almost as closely as Sirius had been himself.

“He’s alright!” He assured him quickly, “Well, he will be. He’s a bit…” This was harder than he’d thought it was going to be. “There was an incident.”

Remus was pale quite suddenly. “Incident?”

“The… The cup… It was a portkey. It…” Sirius raked a hand through his long, unkempt hair and let out a huff. “Well he won, first off. Him and that other Hogwarts kid, Cedric Diggory. They were going to share the victory, take the Triwizard Cup at the same time-”

Remus snorted, as if to say “typical Potter”, with which Sirius couldn’t agree more.

“-But it transported them instead. He wasn’t far from hysterical, whether he realized it or not, so the whole story’s not totally clear. But They were taken to a graveyard. And… He’s back. Voldemort is. It sounds like Harry was there for the first Calling of his new uprising. The other boy is dead.”

Remus’s eyes were wide and glassy. There was fear in them, and also great sadness. “D-Diggory? He’s dead?” He sunk further into the sofa, which groaned beneath him.

Realization dawned on Sirius, heart sinking. How could he have been so callous? “You taught him, didn’t you? Last year?”

Remus said nothing for a few moments. This was familiar. Anxiety and sadness and Sirius Black in his sitting room. He knew this scene. It was like the last thirteen years hadn’t even happened. “Yes, yes I did. Unbelievably intelligent boy. Quick wit. I wasn’t even slightly surprised when I read that his name was pulled from the goblet.”

“I believe there were more important things to be shocked about in that article, if I do recall,” Sirius pulled a wry smile onto his face.

Remus returned the gesture. “Harry. What do we do about Harry?”

Sirius sighed heavily, “Well, I suppose ‘whisk him away from the sorry excuse for muggles he calls Aunt and Uncle to come live a normal life’ is out.”

“I can’t stop thinking that they would have wanted us to protect him. Above anyone else, they would have trusted us to do it, and look where he is now.” Remus looked, if possible, even older and more tired than he had when he’d answered the door.

“You at least did your best to look after him last year at school,” Sirius ignored Remus’s indignantly raised eyebrows and plowed on. “They would have wanted us to give him the safest life possible, but I think that’s out at this point too. He’s wrapped up in this, now, Moony. This isn’t the last time he’s going to be in danger. There’s another war on a tipping point and I think he’s at the center of it. They never would have expected us to shelter him from that.”

“Only because they never would have expected their fourteen year old son to face Lord Voldemort in a graveyard when he was supposed to be at school,” Remus pointed out.

Sirius nodded, unsure of how to continue the conversation. There was still a boat-load of information to give Remus about this evening alone. Everything with Barty Jr. and Alaster Moody… And there was still so much that hung between the two of them that had as yet gone unsaid.

“A cuppa?” Remus asked out of what seemed a lot like nowhere, and stood quickly. He crossed the entryway, into what was presumably the kitchen, while Sirius just sat where he was. He heard the distinct sounds of a heavy kettle on a burner and flame lit by magic.

The tea took less than ten minutes to make, but the silence and stillness of the sitting room dragged on for what could have been hours to Sirius. During that less-than-ten-minutes, Remus said nothing and stayed in the kitchen.

He eventually did return with two cups of tea, though Sirius had never actually responded to the offer in the first place. He took his cup and sipped without hesitation. That was when his hand started shaking.

Three sugars, half-splash of cream. Exactly the way Sirius liked it. Exactly the way Sirius had always liked it. It had not even occurred to Remus to ask how he took it, because, of course, he already knew. Sirius looked up from the perfectly prepared cup of tea at his old friend. His friend. This was Remus J. Lupin. Just Moony. He folded his socks and always slept with the hangings closed no matter what, even after Hogwarts. He hid his Prefect’s badge during night-time prowls, even though he still wore it. He read eighteen books per summer on a slow year. He owned no surface without tea-stains and no sweater without worn holes. And he took his tea with one sugar and no cream.

At long, long last, Sirius smiled. And after a drawn out, curious expression on Remus’s part, he did as well.

The two men grinned into their tea and sat in silence that was suddenly much warmer than it had been only a moment ago.

When chat started up again, it was of the lighter variety. They talked about Sirius’s mountain home outside of Hogsmeade and Remus’s most enjoyable year teaching. From there the conversation found its way back around to Sirius’s godson.

After a particular moment of silence, Remus blurted, “He calls me ‘Professor’. I mean, he’s never had reason to call me anything but ‘Professor’, but, still…  He calls me ‘Professor’.”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “And I thought it was strange he calls me by my given name. How many hours did we spend repeating ‘Uncle Moony’ over and over just for him to call you ‘Professor’? That’s downright pitiful.”

“Yes, well, a lot’s happened since us sitting in Lily and James’s kitchen, feeding their baby applesauce and hoping he’d learn our names before theirs,” Remus’s smile grew sad and Sirius’s chest tightened uncomfortably.

He buried his face in his palms, more ashamed than he had been in a long time. “Remus, I’m sorry-”

“It’s over,” Remus shook his head, “It’s done. And don’t you ever apologize again, because it’s not your fault. I know you feel guilty. I know you think it’s your fault because you suspected me instead of…him, instead of… Peter. But it’s not. That’s just the way things played out, it’s done. And I thought you guilty for twelve whole years, which means two things to me. One: that we’re even on the mistrust front, and two: I’m done looking at you like you’re a criminal, so don’t bother acting like one. You didn’t kill James and you didn’t kill Lily, so don’t.”

Sirius nodded. He could do nothing else but sit in silence. He was being reprimanded, he knew. But he was also being forgiven, which in his most fantastical daydreams he had never imagined would truly and wholly come to pass.

“Even if it isn’t… over.” Remus sighed and set his empty cup on a coffee table that was already ruined by the rims of a thousand piping hot cups.

Sirius knew exactly what he meant. “It isn’t, is it? It’s going to start all over again. Merlin, I was just telling Harry and his friends about what it was like last time and now they’re going to get to experience it for themselves, aren’t they. And…” A gloomy cloud settled over Sirius’s features, “And they’ll be in fifth year come September.”

Remus looked very pale and Sirius was worried he might be sick on the rug in a moment. “Fifth year,” He repeated, “That’s when…”

“Yeah. When we started hearing… things. And all that… Everything started happening,” Sirius said darkly.

“You don’t think he… even then?” Remus looked up to make eye contact with Sirius. They had slipped into an old habit of not quite finishing sentences. None of the Marauders ever really needed to by the end of their school career. They always knew what the others were thinking even given only rudimentary cues.

“No.” Sirius’s voice held a note of finality. “Absolutely not. Peter wasn’t with them until after Hogwarts. He couldn’t have been. We’d have known back then.”

“We should have known as it was,” Remus wasn’t meeting his eye again.

“We should have known? We should have known?” Sirius was trembling again. “No, Remus, we shouldn’t have known. James was in hiding; you were under cover in the were-community. And who was with Peter running missions for The Order? I was. Who met him for lunch everyday to pretend things were normal? I did. Who convinced him to switch and become their Secret Keeper? Me. We should not have known anything, Moony. I should have-”

“I said stop!” Remus raised his voice for the first time that evening (morning?). Sirius snapped his jaw shut, his posture stiffened, waiting for the next verbal blow.

But Remus never delivered. He simply sat, eyes full of a familiar intensity. An intensity that Sirius had never counted on seeing again. It was short-lived, however. It dulled almost as suddenly as it had sparked, and then Remus was just looking at him. He felt scrutinized.

 After some time he cleared his throat. “Do you know the hour?”

Lupin dragged his eyes away from him to unsheathe his wand from the pocket of his bathrobe. He cast a Tempus Charm wordlessly. “Quarter after four,” He stated needlessly.

“No idea when Dumbledore’s supposed to drop in,” Sirius admitted. He should feel more guilty than he did about keeping Remus up in the middle of the night. He hadn’t seemed to mind yet, though.

“He won’t forget,” Remus said, almost reassuringly, and until he’d said that, Sirius had had no idea that he was in need of reassurance. Now he was acutely aware of his fear that Albus Dumbledore would simply have shoved him off on Remus and been done with him.

Instead of responding, Sirius evaded. “So how are Hope and Lyall?” He asked.

Something deeply remorseful flashed in Remus’s eyes. “Er. Not. Well… I mean… Mum died. Soon after Lily and James. End of November, same year,” He explained.

Sirius’s shoulders sagged. It was remarkable that he could still feel loss, especially over a person he’d never been particularly close with, after not having seen her for thirteen years. “Moony… I’m sorry… And what happened to Lyall?”

Astonishingly, the remorse was present in Remus’s eyes again. He hadn’t been grieving for his mother a moment ago, he’d been regretful of his father.

“I don’t actually know. Living in Scotland, last I saw him. I used to visit, but it’s been years,” He explained.

Sirius looked at him curiously. Despite Lyall Lupin’s rather medieval methods of werewolf taming where his son was concerned, he had never sensed anything but love between them. “Remus,” Sirius started, but his throat stuck. How to go about this question? It was so important and meant nothing all at once. He’d spent countless nights in Azkaban fantasizing that he would one day get to ask it, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer at all. “What happened after it all went… after it all went? I mean- What happened to you?”

Remus picked at a tatter in his robe, fraying the strands of fabric even worse than they’d already been. “Nothing. A lot. I don’t know.” He seemed flustered and was avoiding Sirius’s eyes again.

“Please…” Sirius left his pleading open-ended.

Remus let out a breath that sang with defeat. “Nothing happened to me. Nothing. I mean everything was nothing. You were gone; James was gone; Lily was gone; Peter was gone; The Order disbanded. I… without James, I… lost my house. I had a flat for awhile, but I had to keep switching jobs because- well, you know. And at first they were desk jobs, not glamorous, but not uncomfortable. Then they were muggle service jobs. Then there weren’t jobs at all. I wound up… I had to… to go back to living with werewolves for awhile. Only that time I wasn’t undercover; I wasn’t reporting to anyone. I was genuinely living with them. And there wasn’t anyone there to pretend for. No one was telling me I wasn’t one of them because… I was. It was like that for a long time. When Dumbledore tracked me down, I was barely out of poverty, living in a halfway house for lycanthropes. And since Hogwarts, I’ve been renting here. I think Dumbledore may have been exceptionally generous with my severance pay.”

It was Sirius’s turn to threaten the cleanliness of the carpet. Twelve years in a stone cell he could believe. Moony living among werewolves and actually believing he was like them, he could not stomach.

Before he could decide between being sick and somehow responding to Remus, however, a brilliant, silver phoenix manifested in the doorway, making them both jump in surprise. Dumbledore’s voice filled the room.

“Provided you are awake, I shall be calling within the next five minutes or so.” It was eerily familiar, receiving orders from that particular patronus.

Sirius was trying to think of something to say to bring closure to the conversation they’d been having before the interruption, but Remus was faster. “Is there anything I should know before he gets here?”

“Er- Yeah,” Sirius shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. “Just some details, I think he’ll have expected me to share some things.”

“For instance?” Remus’s tone was all business once again. It threw Sirius for a loop.

“This whole night… I think… He’s regrouping,” Sirius said carefully.

“You’ve said as much, you said there was a Calling,” at least they were able to find eye contact once again.

“No, not Voldemort.” Sirius shook his head somberly. “Dumbledore. I think he’s reassembling The Order of the Phoenix.”

Remus could not truthfully have said he was surprised, Sirius knew. It was the natural next course of action for the Headmaster to take. But Sirius watched as his friend’s throat seemed to constrict. It was painful to watch. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

“And there’s one more thing.” Sirius had to say this. It had been eating him for hours, now. It had choked him upon realization and strangled him softly ever since. “I know you said no more blaming, but…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “This is our fault. We did this. It was Pete. Pete brought Voldemort back. He performed the… ritual. He… he cut Harry and used his blood for it. Pete did it. And we had him last year. We were going to do it, and we let J-Harry talk us out of it.” His face burned hot under the slip of his tongue, but he forced himself past it like it hadn’t happened. “We should have done it. Should have killed him when we had our chance.”

A moment passed. “It would have been postponing the inevitable. If it was possible, someone would have done it eventually. A matter of time.” Remus’s words didn’t quite meet his eyes. He knew, somehow, that they were true. But that didn’t make Sirius’s pronouncement any less painful.

“Maybe,” Sirius said doubtfully. “But not like this. Not with a dead student and a permanently traumatized Harry.”

“You have no basis for that, Sirius,” Remus’s tone was authoritative. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe Harry would have been dead. Maybe… Maybe it was better it was Peter. Maybe he-”

“DON’T! Don’t say it, I know what you’re going to say. Don’t tell me maybe ‘Peter went easier on him because he’s Peter’. Harry’s got a gash in his arm so deep that it’ll probably give him another courtesy scar from where our friend sliced him open. Voldemort pointed his wand at my godson and cast Avada Kadavra and Wormtail was standing there. This one’s on him, so this one’s on us.”

Remus made no move to disagree. He had paled considerably at the mention of The Killing Curse. “Well, then,” He said wearily. “At least now it’s on ‘us’. And not ‘you’.” He offered no further explanation. Sirius didn’t need any. Which was just as well, as a moment later there was a knock on the door.

Remus adjusted his bathrobe more modestly as he stood, and strode over to the door to let Dumbledore in.

Once Dumbledore was inside, Sirius couldn’t help but notice how downright shabby Remus’s home actually was. His presence was so venerable and awe-striking that by comparison, his backdrop stood out as completely unkempt. The quaint wallpaper that lined the walls was yellowed and peeling near the borders. The door, which Remus shut behind the headmaster, wasn’t quite hinged right and was marred with deep crevices anyway. The carpet was stained - patches that looked far older than the year or so Remus claimed to have been living here. The furniture was completely mismatched, all of it fraying dangerously. The archway that led presumably to the kitchen was unevenly set. Sirius had been too distracted earlier to notice these things. Or maybe he only saw them now because he knew that this place was the height of anything his friend had lived in for thirteen years, with the exception of Hogwarts. So maybe Remus simply didn’t notice these things. Except that Sirius had noticed, now. And he’d been living in far worse conditions for the same span of time. And it was difficult to convince oneself that Remus Lupin might ‘not notice’ anything at all ever. Another twinge of remorse held Sirius’s gut at the thought of Remus looking at that peeling, discolored wallpaper everyday and hating it, but looking at it anyway.

“Mr. Lupin, how glad I am to see you well, even under the circumstances. Thank you for opening your home to Mr. Black this evening. Well, we’re far past evening now, aren’t we, goodness. I take it you have been filled in in my absence?” Dumbledore looked between the men, the picture of serenity, if not joviality. Like he was dropping in for tea on a Sunday afternoon.

“I… Yes, Sir.” Remus said and welcomed Dumbledore into the sitting room, taking another armchair next to Sirius’s, leaving the couch for the new arrival, who sat with very little ado.

“Excellent. And whatever bits of story have been mis-conveyed will likely be revealed very shortly, to all of us. Unfortunately, this means also that new bits of information will surely arise as well. This is the nature of news, of course,” He rambled. Sirius always felt as though he were being taught an important lesson by Dumbledore, whether they were discussing the weather, or his godson’s witness of the return of the Dark Lord.

“Well, then, onto my first- of many, I’m afraid- order of business. I am wondering,” he continued when Remus and Sirius both said nothing, “Whether perhaps it would be possible by any stretch of the imagination, to dissuade either of you from rejoining The Order of the Phoenix, as it is reestablished?” He eyed both men with a piercing gaze that made each of them feel like an over-scrutinized seventeen year old hooligan. Again.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius refused while Remus shook his head fervently beside him. This surprised him just a little. What with how pale Remus had gotten upon mention of a potential reorganization, he had half-expected Remus not to want to join back up.

Dumbledore nodded, “Excellent, excellent. I expected only as much from you both. Now. Sirius,” He fixed his addressee with blue eyes over crescent-moon glasses. “Your assignments this evening. Obviously, you have fulfilled two of them, both by informing Mr. Lupin of the situation, and by remaining here. As for Mrs. Figg and Mr. Fletcher?”

“Fletcher was no problem, apart from finding him. Had to trace him half-way across Hackney before I caught him, but once I said you’d summoned him he was falling over himself. He awaits your word eagerly,” Sirius relayed.

Dumbledore nodded, unsurprised by the information. “And Arabella?”

“I got stuck in Surrey for awhile,” Sirius admitted quietly.

Remus snorted, drawing Dumbledore’s attention.  “Arabella Figg has cats.”  When Dumbledore continued to watch him expectantly, he explained.  “Cats love Padfoot.”

Albus’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“But she was as eager as ever to help, once I got around to talking to her,” Sirius assured him.

“All is going according to plan, it would seem,” Something in Dumbledore’s tone told Sirius that this visit was not yet coming to a conclusion.

“Now, we have more difficult matters to discuss, I’m afraid.” Dumbledore looks momentarily put out, but seems disinclined to continue without prompting.

Instead of taking the cue, Remus stood suddenly.  “Er, cup of tea?”

“That sounds delightful, Mr. Lupin, thank you.” Dumbledore bows his head in thanks for the offer, and Remus disappears into the kitchen once more.  Sirius knows without a doubt, that even though he has again failed to respond, affirmatively or otherwise, he is about to receive another perfectly fixed cup of tea.

It takes much less time than previously for Remus to return with more cups - the old ones still sitting on the table - of tea.  Sirius suspected magical involvement.

“To business, then,” Dumbledore sipped his tea and grinned his approval at Remus.  “So, then.  Sirius, I am wondering if you are aware of the inheritance you incurred whilst you were otherwise detained.”

Sirius’s heart drops.  This.  He had fought thinking about this tooth and nail.  His fingertips go numb in an instant and he sets his teacup down to keep from shaking it.  “Inheritance…”

“Yes. Not legally, of course.  But magically and- forgive me for saying- familially, you have inherited-”

“I know what I have inherited,” Sirius says through his teeth, which he hadn’t realized had been gritted violently until that moment.  “Where are you going with this, Dumbledore?”

Remus looked between the two men, keeping his curiosity respectably well hidden, though Sirius could feel it practically rolling off of his body in waves.

“The Order is in need of a new home.  The Black family home is, of course, entirely yours now to do with as you wish.  If it is not, as I suspect, somewhere you wish to call ‘home’-”

“Of course I don’t wish to call it home.  Have we not established that I have been living in caves?  Even if I thought the place was sufficiently protected, I’d never live there,” Sirius folded his arms and tried not to feel like an insolent teenager.  He failed.

“I can understand this, Sirius.  I do not mean to put you in such a difficult situation.  But it would seem that The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, still exists under its Fidelius Charm.  As the house’s last actual heir, you are presently its Secret Keeper…” Dumbledore continued to talk, but Sirius could not hear him over the ringing in his ears.  Secret Keeper.  He was the Black family Secret Keeper now.  The job he had so catastrophically failed to do for his best friend, he was now doing for the Black Family entirely by accident.  On some level he had known this, but hearing the words aloud was too much for Sirius, after everything else that had happened that evening.  This was his tipping point.

When he shook himself out of his own mind, Remus was gathering a teacup off of the already stained carpet.  Sirius’s teacup.  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Moony.” Sirius scrambled to help, but without a wand he was no good at domestic things like cleaning spills.  Dumbledore spelled the tea out of the rug, which in turn looked probably cleaner than it had before.

He turned to Dumbledore, “Take it.  I don’t want it.  Use it for The Order, only make someone else Secret Keeper.” Sirius’s stomach turned, hearing himself beg the headmaster to relieve him of his own Secret Keeping duties.

“They’ll know it’s me, of course they will.  Who the hell else would be James Potter’s Secret Keeper?  It’s the very first thing they’ll think of.”

 

_“Who then, Sirius?  There’s a reason they’ll think of you - you’re the only one I can trust.  I mean, there’s Remus-”_

_“No.  No, not Remus.”_

_“Wha-, why?”_

_“Because he- look, it’s probably not- just not Remus.  He… He’s got enough going on with the wolves right now anyway.  Peter.  No one would ever suspect Peter!”_

_“Yeah, there’s a reason for that, too.  Sirius, this is my family.  I’m not sure I’d make Pete Secret Keeper of so much as my sock drawer…”_

_“James, I need you to trust me on this, I can’t be this for you.  It’s too obvious, it just is.”_

 

“Sirius, I cannot thank you enough for this gift.  I will not ask you to remain Secret Keeper in any fashion.  However, there is one more thing I must ask you, and I’m afraid that this will be the thing I have to well and truly persuade you on this evening.”

Sirius’s first thought was, nothing could be worse.  His second was that was a very naive thing to have thought.

“Above all of my other duties, I am headmaster of a school.  I will accept the role of Secret Keeper to the new headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix, but I will require someone to maintain the establishment.  Someone needs to be present at the headquarters to act as safeguard as well as to facilitate the coming and going of information we will undoubtedly be receiving from here out.”

Sirius felt what was coming and began shaking his head, dark curtains of hair swinging lazily around his face.

“That being said, if you are to join The Order as you have expressed you wish to do, then cave living is no longer a suitable lifestyle for you.  You will be necessary to The Order and must be accessible at a moment’s notice.  There is a logical path to take here, two birds with one stone, if you will.” Dumbledore frowned at whatever he read in Sirius’s facial expression.  “This is not a punishment, Sirius.  This is a delegation.  I shall be disappointed if you should refuse your first task upon rejoining The Order.  This is your first task.  Please do not answer me now.  Rest on it.  It has been a trying evening and rest is, I think, what we all need just now.”

Dumbledore stood without ever giving Sirius a chance to respond.  Which was just as well.  Sirius couldn’t have found his voice at that moment if he’d tried.  Live at Grimmauld Place again?  He’d sworn to himself - and anyone else who would listen - at age fifteen that he’d never go back as long as he lived.  When it had occurred to him earlier that Dumbledore might ask, it was so easy to simply refuse outright.  But faced with the actual decision… and damn Dumbledore for presenting it as a challenge.

He paid no mind to Dumbledore’s polite exit from Remus’s home.  Dumbledore might as well have punched Sirius in the gut on his way out.  It was only a moment before Remus was sagging into the sofa, where he’d been before the intrusion.

“Sirius-”

“I can’t,” Sirius said darkly, cutting Remus off before he could say something comforting, which he would have because Sirius knew that tone.  “I won’t.”

Remus sighed.  “You will, Sirius.  There is nothing more important than the war to come.  Take the time you need to come to terms with it, but you’re going to do whatever you need to do to be a part of this.”

Sirius looked up from his lap, where his eyes had been fixed.  Remus’s gaze pierced into his own in a way that not even Dumbledore’s shocking blue one could.  For a long moment, they simply held that contact.  To Sirius, it felt like a lifeline.

Of course he would.  Remus was right.  Sirius had spent the last thirteen years being as utterly useless as possible.  He would give his life to this cause.  No one ever needed to know loss like he did - like Remus did - at the hands of Voldemort ever again.  If fighting him meant living in his mother’s house, then that’s what he would do.

“For now, it is six o’clock in the morning, and I have liked to have been waking up about now,” Remus’s eyes did look so tired.

A snort of laughter left Sirius without permission, “You wake up at six in the morning?  You hate waking up early.”

Sirius expected him to say something that would make him regret that comment.  He anticipated the words ‘people change’ or some such heart-shattering revelation.

Instead, Remus smiled.  “Fine, then.  I was going to wake up around noon, anyway, but now I only have six hours left to do it.”

Had it been any other night - any other morning - Sirius would have laughed.  Weary from all of the previous events, it was enough of a feet for him that he managed to smile.  It was genuine, nevertheless.

Remus set to finding extra linens and pillows for Sirius, who set up camp on the frayed sofa and sprawled out, laying on a genuinely comfortable surface for the first time in far too long.  His bones ached and he burrowed as deep into the cushions as possible, which made Remus laugh upon reentering the room.

After one of the longest days in Sirius’s life - which was a considerable statement, given some of his past exploits - he got to do something he’d only dreamed of doing in the last fourteen years.  As Remus began shuffling out of the sitting room in favor of his bedroom down a small hallway, Sirius called after him, “Goodnight, Moony.”

Remus paused, as if he too understood the gravity of the moment. “Goodnight, Padfoot,” He muttered very quietly.

Sirius was asleep before Remus’s head hit the pillow.

 


End file.
